


Earned Trust

by not_rude_ginger



Series: The Andorian Tales [10]
Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Enemies to Friends, Gen, Implied Mind Rape, Vulcan Mind Melds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-17 05:05:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13069740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/not_rude_ginger/pseuds/not_rude_ginger
Summary: Some alliances are made with great gatherings. Some are made between two people, sharing a mutual experience.





	Earned Trust

**Author's Note:**

> “Unguarded touch” from 500 prompts [Shran/T'Pol]

The Mess Hall was darkened, almost everyone was either asleep or on duty. Only one lone figure sat at the table by the window, eyes fixed on the table before him rather than the stars shooting by, their light stretched by the speed of the ship. His zhenun had taught him why that happened, why the stars seemed to surround the ship to form a tunnel of black and streaks of silver white. He could not recall the exact details… it had been so long since he had heard her voice, he almost could not recall it. Robbed as he was of his formative years clinging on to her belly fur, he had even less of a memory to go on than his siblings. As the youngest, he had already had the least amount of years with his parents… all three of them. Then he had lost most of those years.

All because of a green blooded addict.

The door hissed open and Shran sighed as he sensed T’Pol enter the room. She came to a stop just over the threshold and he could feel her eyes on him. Finally she spoke,

“I came to see how you were.”

Shran sighed and sat back in his chair, one hand curled around a small shot glass.

“You should go to see Phlox.” Her confusion was evident by her silence, so he elaborated, “You expressing concern for me. Taking time out of your meditation or sleep or… whatever you do off duty, to enquire after me.” He squinted up at her, “Are you feeling alright?”

“I am fine. I was not the one who was forced to… to speak of such things.” Her evasive reply surprised him as she came around to sit opposite him. He gave a bitter smirk and raised the glass,

“All in the name of justice and progress. Now if only I could somehow take that part of my life and give it to someone else so that I could retain some semblance of dignity and respect and I would call today a victory.”

“You believe you have lost respect among the crew for your revelation?”

Shran snorted, “I’m not worried about this crew… much. I’m thinking of those with whom I will have to work with to keep this sector of space stable. Ambassador Thoris is not likely to listen to anything I say now… not after he finds out… after he finds out.”

“You did not ask for it.” said T'Pol quietly.

“No one ever does.” Shran murmured quietly. “In any form it may come.”

T'Pol tilted her head and Shran growled, “Don’t. Read. Into. That.”

“Very well.”

Shran threw back the ale and poured himself another. T'Pol watched his hands. Shran had watched _his_ hands, watched as they reached for him while he remained immobile, trapped inside his own body. He grimaced and threw the ale back quickly. He wanted nothing more than to forget today… forget so much… and remember so much.

“I can understand how… difficult it was for you.”

Shran narrowed his eyes at her, “Can you?”

T'Pol nodded, “I experienced the same thing. Once.”

“Once?” Shran screwed the corner of his lip into his cheek, looking away before he could say something he would eventually regret.

“I know that six months of such… assault is far more but…”

“Quantity and Quality are hard things to define in such an experience.” Shran murmured, trying not to growl the words. He forced himself to meet T’Pol’s eyes. She nodded her head.

“Agreed.”

They were quiet for a long time, Shran putting away more ale. Finally T'Pol broke the silence,

“When I was a child, I was taught that Andorian and Vulcan telepathy was incompatible, that even the touch of skin could cause a volatile reaction… like placing a flame on oil. I… would have imagined that… what happened to you was not possible because of that.”

“Well it is possible. But the backlash of the telepathies’ reaction was far worse when you’re stuck inside your own head.”

Shran gave a shudder before he could help it.

Green blood and entrapment inside one’s own mind.

Two things Andoria’s greatest enemies shared… at least for him.

“Are you aware of the Kir’shara?”

Shran nodded, narrowing his eyes at the apparent change of subject. T'Pol shifted forward and placed her hand on the table.

“One of the things that has been learned is that mind melds are not inappropriate or even dangerous… with proper training.”

“And what use is that to me?”

“Such knowledge has forced us to reconsider certain… established beliefs.” T'Pol placed a PADD on the table, Shran had not noticed her holding it. “One of which is that there is no hope for a control of the volatile reaction caused when our species touch skin. I believe it was used to… encourage our mistrust of you.”

“Not very logical.” Shran bit out. T'Pol nodded.

“Indeed. It is now theorised that our initial encounters were… made all the more difficult because of your people’s mistrust of our blood colour.”

“So it’s my people’s fault we’ve been at war?”

“I did not mean that. But the theory is that your mistrust of us… understandable considering your first encounter with Orions… from what little I know, it would make any species wary, it affected our interactions.”

Shran glowered at her. “Get to the point.”

T'Pol glanced down at Shran’s hands again. “You avoid touching me. As I avoid touching you.”

“Vulcans avoid touching everyone.”

“Do you trust me?”

Shran’s antennae reared back but he gave the faintest of nods. Today had brought too many memories for him to say it. T'Pol inhaled and stretched out her hand. Shran clenched his fists, refusing to pull away from her, as her long fingers slid over the flat surface of the table. They paused just shy of touching his ungloved hands.

“I trust you.” She said quietly. Her hand closed the distance and Shran, like a child, shut his eyes as if it would make it go away.

Her cool fingers rested on his warm ones… and there was no pain. Shran’s eyes snapped open and he stared at her pale brown hand resting on his azure one, covering his fist. His mouth fell open slightly. He had never known the touch of a Vulcan to be anything but painful. But all he felt was the cool skin and the calm presence of T'Pol’s mind, a faint presence like she was sitting at his side.

“It can’t be that simple.” he croaked.

T'Pol gently pressed against his fingers.

“Why not?”

Shran swallowed hard and slowly, hesitantly, he uncurled his fist and wrapped his fingers around hers. He drew in a shuddering breath… and let it out again, catching on a sob that had waited sixty years to escape. He sniffed and drew his head back, but left his hand where it was.

They said nothing. They both just sat and stared at their joined hands, as the streaking stars cast shadows over their contrasting skin

**Author's Note:**

> This assumes that there is nothing between the two but co-workers who like one another. No frisky business here. XD
> 
> Come and chat with me over at my [tumblr](https://not-rude-ginger.tumblr.com/)


End file.
